Abuse and Prejudice
by Principal N
Summary: Harry Potter was abused. Badly. But he always knew he was different. And the world changed for him on his eleventh birthday. Rating for disturbing violence and maybe smut much later on. H/Hr, slow development. Manip!Dumbles, Git!Ron, Git!Ginny. Bashing will only go so far for the young Weasels. Dumbles, on the other hand... Cackles.
1. Prolog

A/N: Hello all. I sincerely apologize for my absence. The hell of academia has claimed my soul and refuses to let go. I've been typing for so long today already, but I feel an honest obligation to you to get you something before Christmas. I'm embracing my true Gothic with this story and just letting it come out without any plan so let me know if it's bad.

Abuse and Prejudice Chapter One: Prolog

Harry Potter lived a hard life. As a result of his treatment by his relatives, he was withdrawn and showed little emotion to anyone. Despite being so reserved, he was intelligent enough to know that not all families were as brutal towards their nephews as his was to him. His uncle, Vernon Dursely, constantly beat him and whipped him, leaving a web of criss-crossed scars on Harry's torso. Harry had long since learned that crying out from pain caused Vernon to beat him longer and harder so Harry began to banish the pain elsewhere. His aunt, Petunia Dursely, methodically ruined any self-esteem and self-worth Harry might have had from an early age, causing him to truly believe that his life would always be so deprived. Harry could not believe that anyone at all could care an inkling for him, and his cousin Dudley and his gang constantly preyed on Harry's emotional and physical disabilities. Despite all of this, Harry was incessantly kind to all but the relatives he was forced to live with. He felt that someday it might be different and he retained a small hope that he may survive his ordeal.

Oddly, Harry had a strange feeling that most of his ire was caused by a peculiar and garishly-dressed man with a long white beard and half-moon spectacles. Over the years, Harry felt a sense of utmost hate arise for the man, for putting him where he was and refusing to even check up on him. Harry didn't understand why the man had anything to do with him or why he never visited, but he had a feeling deep in himself that said they would meet again. That simple information gave young Harry the strength he required to make it through the years of torture, pain, and abuse. Harry prepared himself for this meeting with an almost gleeful determination. Although Harry's 'family' fed him very little, he was rather strong for his age, probably from the copious chores he completed while under the tender mercies of his Uncle's belt. If Harry bled onto the floor, his Aunt screamed at him before pouring waterfalls of alcohol mixed with salt onto his back. Harry had an unbelievable resistance to pain as a result of this.

Everything changed on the run-up to and during Harry Potter's eleventh birthday.

A week before his eleventh birthday, Harry was nursing his wounds from the previous day in his cupboard. He had set both his legs so they didn't give out under him and walked out of his cupboard gingerly to begin breakfast for his torturers. He finished breakfast and put it on the table at the same time that Vernon and Dudley came to sit down. They sneered at him before sitting and eating with no respect for Petunia's absence, as usual. They always found some reason to beat Harry on the quality of his food. It didn't matter if it was perfect in every way. Vernon would have some excuse to why it displeased him. Petunia came down to scream at Harry for a bit before sitting with her fellow sub-humans.

"Freak, get the mail. Then I want you back here immediately!" Vernon bellowed at Harry rather unnecessarily. Harry held an unusual amount of anticipation for his birthday in the following week. He made his way to the door to pick up the mail and, curiously enough, saw a letter addressed to him. Knowing his uncle would take it from him instantly, he shoved it down the posterior of his trousers before making his way back to the kitchen and handing the remaining mail to Vernon. Vernon unceremoniously ripped the letters from Harry's intentionally weak grasp.

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Harry. He finally managed to escape into his cupboard and waited for his relatives to be asleep before taking the wrinkled letter out of his waistband and opening it. He read through it and scoffed before seeing the signature at the close. In a loopy scrawl it read Minerva McGonagall. The name alone inspired a warm feeling in him not felt before. He just knew that this woman, this Deputy Headmistress was a good person that would help him find and destroy the old man.

And so he waited. And waited. And soon, Harry's life changed. Whether for the better for or the worse, Harry was unsure at first. Things were certainly…. less painful for him. But Harry had always known he was different.

A/N: I know that my chapters are rather short at first but generally prologues are only a page or two anyway so it works for me. It's a good intro I think. Let me know. Reviews won't change the pace of my updates. Which is unfortunately not too fast. I love writing but oftentimes never get the time to do it.


	2. New Beginnings

A/N: I saw what reviews I had and decided to write some more. I dislike letting people down but sometimes it's unavoidable. Sorry 'bout that guys… Can't do much about my schedule yet. I'm a high school student, it's hard enough to find time to do something other than copious amounts of AP homework.

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

_26 August 1991_

Harry Potter was looking forward to the upcoming day. Despite it being a seemingly normal day, he felt that something … magical … would happen. Therefore, he completed his chores with an unusual speed and determination as if time itself would speed up to accommodate his anticipation. His relatives were subdued as it was a lazy Monday **[I actually looked up the date] **and Harry was quite sure there would be no beatings today – at least, none that hurt too much. Harry was used to it by now as there really wasn't much room on his back for more scars. He was working the garden without his shirt, the fence surrounding the property preventing neighbors from seeing him, so he didn't bother. It was hot, and Harry was already sweating from the late summer sun beating down on him. His relatives didn't care because Vernon and Dudley deeply enjoyed and held pride in the scars criss-crossing Harry's back.

Because he was in the garden, Harry did not hear the doorbell at the front door ring, nor did he realize that his life was about to change. Interestingly enough, Petunia's decision to open the door instead of calling for her deplorable sister's spawn delayed her death, though it didn't seem so. As she opened the door and saw a stern-looking woman in a black robe, she screeched, which brought Harry around the side of the house, where he overheard part of the conversation, if he could call it that.

"Hello, Petunia Dursely nee Evans I presume? I am Minerva McGonagall, here to follow up with one Harry Potter about his schooling. I did not receive a response so I came personally to make sure he received his letter. As the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, it is my duty to come anyway, as you well know from your childhood," the woman now identified as Minerva said.

"You will leave this property now, freak! I don't want any of your kind soiling my property!" Petunia screeched as a poor and rather unintelligible response.

At this point Harry was stuck between snickers and full-blown laughter as this had gone on for a few minutes with Vernon jumping in at the end. Harry finally decided to end it as Minerva became further annoyed and brought herself up as if to make herself to larger. Harry walked around the corner of the house and made his way to the porch. "Professor McGonagall, is it? I'm Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you." Harry held out his hand for her to shake but McGonagall had gone pale. Harry cursed internally. He had forgotten to put on his shirt again.

McGonagall turned back to the Durselys and grew red with anger, screaming at them about abusing children. She ended her rant with the mention of a prison called 'Azkaban', to which Petunia went deathly pale and took a step back. _Odd, _Harry thought, _why does she recognize that name and why is she so scared? _Harry's questions were not to be answered however when Vernon lunged for him. Harry quickly jumped away at the same time that McGonagall pulled out a thin stick – _a wand, _Harry somehow knew – and seemingly petrified both his uncle and aunt. "Are they dead, Professor?" Harry asked, unable to disguise his joy at the prospect.

The Professor sighed. "Unfortunately, that would be illegal Mr. Potter. I can't do that."

"But Professor, if they did this much to me, which I'm fairly sure is illegal as well, surely we can do something about this" Harry said, face screwed up in confusion.

"Mr. Potter, I never said anything about taking them out of their body binds. I was thinking of leaving them like this. It should wear off in about a day or so. They won't be able to move, so I'm sure they'll be quite stiff when they get out. They'll also be laying in a pool of whatever bodily fluids come out during the time." The Professor proceeded to shoot two more spells? At the elder of Harry's relatives before turning and telling Harry to get his things.

"It's alright Professor. I don't have anything. But there are a few things I'd like to get from my cupboard. I'll be right back." Harry ran off while the Professor went pale for a second time before settling on glaring at the sub-humans on the floor. Harry returned shortly with a shirt on and his meager collection of books. After all, when Dudley and Company was chasing him, Harry decided to shelter in the one place they never dared enter- the nonfiction section of the public library. Books on history, sciences, maths, language, and culture gave him comfort where people didn't. As a result, Harry was far beyond his peers in terms of sheer intelligence. He just hid it because better marks than Duddikins meant worse and frequent beatings.

"Where are we going to go, Professor?" Harry asked when they had left the presence of his 'relatives.'

"We're going to go shopping for some proper clothing for you and to get those glasses fixed up, unless you want magical contacts. But before any of that, we have to make a stop at the bank, Gringotts, for the required funds" Minerva stated.

ºOo_oOº

_Later that day…_

Minerva McGonagall was puzzled. She didn't know why it was so easy to talk to the young Potter. He just seemed somehow more mature than the most of the rest of the 11 year olds she'd met this particular year. Rather like another, a certain Ms. Granger that she met with earlier in the year to discuss her acceptance, although her situation was a bit different. She felt that the two would be good together, complementing each other, but she didn't know why. She was drawn to the enigma of the young and mature form of the boy sleeping on the couch in her quarters. He was puzzling.

ºOo_oOº

Harry Potter was dreaming. It was not a normal dream though, not by any means. It was rather magical in origin, coming from the very soul of the young Potter. He found himself in complete darkness. Suddenly, Harry saw a faint light in the distance, and eagerly made his way toward it. Unfortunately, the darkness seemed to grow heavier and it became harder to continue as He made his way over. But Harry was determined, and broke through the darkness in the light. After this, the darkness dissipated, revealing a barren landscape, deserted but for a few tumbleweeds. Harry scowled at the place and forced some of the light into the landscape to help it grow. He knew, somehow, that the darkness was a combination of blocks on his magic and a part of Voldemort's soul, but he didn't know how he knew.

Harry watched the fruits of his efforts as the desert in front of him grew into first a lush grassy plain before growing gentle hills and wild trees. He knew there were creatures within the forest that would protect him and only him, set there subconsciously. Harry also became aware that he grew during this time, as a result of his magic being able to restore him to his original and true form. He was now about 6" taller, with shoulder length, manageable black hair, and his contacts fell out and he could see clearly again. Also, he became the well-muscled body that years of running from Dudley and chores from the Durselys in general should have made him. His scars faded to thin well-healed lines instead of angry red lines. Fortunately, they stayed. They reminded Harry of who he was.

Harry felt an inordinate sense of pride at his accomplishments, but he knew that he would not have had to accomplish anything if it weren't for the whiskered one, Albus Too-Many-Titles Dumbledore. He was also aware of another, foreign presence in his mind and soul and wondered how that was possible. He followed the trail to the source, curious more than anything, the find a young girl about his age in the center of the forest. They were in a small glade, surrounded on three sides by gentle waterfalls and a placid pond with fish swimming through it. The girl was frantic. Harry called out with his mind cautiously, touching her on the shoulder in his slightly ethereal form. "Hello? Are you okay? Why, and more importantly, how, are you here? My name is Harry Potter. What's yours?"

ºOo_oOº

The girl in question was a Hermione Granger, and she was in full panic mode when Harry's presence touched her mind and asked her those questions. She had awoken to find herself in the strange forest and, not knowing where she was, walked towards what she thought was the edge of the forest but was the center of the forest, though how she knew this she was unsure. She had been introduced to the magical world a mere two weeks ago, and didn't know enough from her books to understand what was happening to her.

When Harry reached out, she retorted, "I'm Hermione Granger, now why have you brought me here and where are we?" She was confused, and angry as a by-product of her anger.

"Why my dearest Hermione, I haven't 'brought' you anywhere. In fact, you're the one who stumbled here in the first place. I don't know how, dear, don't ask me, as I'm sure you will since my guess is you're as curious as I am. As to where we are, my dear, the answer to that question is two-fold. We are currently in the center of my mindscape, and the glade we now speak in is my soul, or rather its anchor to my mind." Harry was amused and decided to flirt a bit. He might be eleven but he saw that the girl in front of him would grow beautiful and if she could be in his soul without being ejected she must be important to him somehow.

Hermione spluttered for a bit and blushed before spitting out, "That's impossible! You're just a dream!"

Harry grew deathly serious for a moment, saying in a quiet voice, "I rather think that it is _not _impossible. It is _MY _mind you are invading right now, and my soul you stand in, so if you think that I'm not real please recall that you _are _a witch as I am a wizard if my suspicions are correct. I also suppose that if you are able to be here that we are bonded by soul in some way. There would be no way to find this place any other way. I just know this. I don't have much of an explanation."

Hermione paled. The seriousness that Harry delivered his speech with erased any doubt of the reality of the situation from her as she felt the foreign yet familiar presence of his soul at last and felt no reason within her to disagree with him. They continued to talk until Harry informed her that morning was coming and that they would both wake up soon. They said their goodbyes, although both felt they would meet in this fashion again.

ºOo_oOº

Harry woke slowly, but was instantly aware of his new form and his new abilities. He found he had a more acute sense of hearing and smell. He supposed his sight would be improved as well when he opened his eyes. Harry also discovered that he could think clearly for the first time and all his memories were organized within him. Also, Harry found that he could easily sense his magic and that around him. Not the ambience no doubt there, but the distinct magical cores of himself and Professor McGonagall in the next room over. Harry opened his eyes and groaned. It was going to be a long week.

A/N: Sorry for the cliffie but I couldn't find another way to end it. I do hope it's long enough for you guys and gals. Obviously it's a soul bond fic now, don't know how that happened. It just went straight down onto the page. Whatever, I'll work with it. Goodnight all, and if anyone feels a need to beta my story, copy/paste into word and email the doc to me at halo3freak213 !


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